


The Sleep of the Weary

by StorySongs



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Gen, Headcanons Through Sleep Positions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:16:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StorySongs/pseuds/StorySongs
Summary: The Head Nurse watches the exorcists sleep. It tells her a lot about who they are.





	

The Head Nurse knows more about the exorcists than they really want her to. She doesn’t try to pry, but she can’t help what she learns just by observation. To someone who’s paying attention the way they sleep is as telling as words.

Kanda sleeps restlessly on the few occasions she can keep him in her ward. However, no matter how much he tosses and turns, his hands stay still as stone with his palms flat to the mattress. When his origins become known to the general Order she imagines tiny children trying to sleep with needles in their veins and monitors on their hands, and the habit makes a lot more sense.

Lavi sleeps with his bad eye to the pillow, one hand on his hammer, in the bed closest to the wall. Even in sleep at Headquarters he is tense and wary, his jaw clenched tightly and awake at the slightest noise. She hopes he’s more relaxed in his own rooms. Waking at the slightest noise constantly isn’t healthy, though it is a useful gauge of his exhaustion. She wonders if he’s ever slept the full night through; even if he’s not woken by his paranoia he’s plagued by horrible nightmares and it’s not unusual for him to wake up panting two or three times a night. When she asks him why, she learns more about the downsides of photographic memories than she ever wants to know.

Lenalee is completely incapable of sleeping on her back and has an intense fear of being restrained. Her covers have to be untucked, and she lays on her side curled around her pillow. Sometimes when she’s injured and it hurts to lay on her side or stomach, the nurse swears she barely sleeps a wink until she’s healed. Remembering the tiny six year old drugged and tied to the bed, the nurse just hides her worry and tries her best to make her comfortable. And she never, ever offers sleep aids- the very thought is nearly enough to make the poor girl have a panic attack.

Allen curls into the smallest ball imaginable, wrapped up to his chin in the covers and clutching them tight. Kanda once tried to wake him from a particularly deep sleep by pulling the covers off him; Allen woke swearing and snarling, wrenching the blankets back as if it were a matter of life or death. The nurse puts it together with the food she sometimes finds hoarded under the mattress, and it hurts her heart to imagine gentle Allen fighting for life on the streets.

It surprises her deeply to realize that Link sleeps the same way Allen does, but is always reaching out as if he expects someone to be next to him.

Krory sleeps like a corpse, flat on his back with arms crossed over his chest, and he’s nearly given her a heart attack several times. It’s sometimes hard to tell he isn’t actually dead. As far as she can tell it’s just habit, but it’s still disturbing.

Miranda shakes and trembles in her sleep, curled up on herself for an entirely different reason than Allen and Link. Sometimes she cries softly without ever waking up; her eternal anxiety and fear of failure creep up when she’s at her most vulnerable. The nurse leaves soft tissues on the bedside table and draws the curtains closed. Sometimes all you can do is pretend you don’t see the fear.

Marie is, surprisingly, the most solid sleeper of them all. He wears heavy-duty earplugs and buries his head under the pillow to lessen the noise, but sleeps through the night with minimal tossing and turning, stretched out comfortably. (She pretends not to notice when Miranda creeps into his bed- she shakes less and sleeps more deeply when she’s curled into his side.)

The Head Nurse ghosts through the infirmary at night, watching the shattered people the Order calls their saviors toss and turn, and does her best to keep them sleeping deeply. It’s the only thing she can do to ease their burdens.

She wishes she could do more.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a headcanoning session with a good friend of mine. The object of the game was to see who could amuse and/or disturb the other person the most. Conclusion: We're both morbid people.


End file.
